


Rewind

by SomethingBlue42



Series: Suptober 2020 [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Canon Compliant, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Cursed Dean Winchester, De-Aged Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Nightmares, Dean Winchester Hates Witches, Dean Winchester is Loved, Gen, Hell Trauma, Kid Fic, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingBlue42/pseuds/SomethingBlue42
Summary: After Dean is de-aged by a witch's curse, Sam and Castiel navigate the rocky terrain of dealing with the four-year-old version of their friend and brother.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Suptober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960396
Comments: 12
Kudos: 265





	Rewind

**Author's Note:**

> I got carried away.
> 
> Also BABY DEAN I CANNOT
> 
>   
> 

"Sam."

"Cas? Cas! I can't-"Sam cut himself off, coughing hard as the sickly sweet smoke thickened around them. "I can't see!"

"Sam!" 

Castiel's voice was sharper that time and Sam scrambled, palm sweaty around the angel blade and forced open his streaming eyes. Everything was shrouded in a purple haze, the witch's den covered in a glittery purple powder. Sam looked around, bringing up his arm to wipe at his face, and found Castiel standing in the middle of the room, angel blade raised as if he'd frozen mid-strike. A small child stood in front of him, dirty blond hair and a cherub face, drowning in an oversized flannel. 

"Where'd the kid come from?"

The child turned its head, and Sam's gasp nearly choked him, sucking in more of that smoke, feeling it grit like sugar along his teeth. The boy couldn't have been a day over five, big eyes and a button nose over the perfect cupids bow lips. Sam took a step closer, and the boy watched the movement with intelligent eyes, small shoulders tensing. Another step closer, and the boy took a careful step out of the jeans and boots he'd been standing in, the flannel hanging nearly to his ankles as he moved back and shifted to take cover behind Castiel's legs.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was barely above a whisper, and the boy's face came into view around the hem of Castiel's trench coat, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Dean, is that…?" Sam's eyes snapped to Castiel's, who was still holding his blade up but was looking down curiously at the child. "Cas is that…?"

"Yes, it appears so," Castiel muttered, tilting his head to look at Dean as he lowered his blade.

Sam took another step closer, and with speed entirely unnatural for a child so young, Dean darted around Castiel, snatching the blade from his hand and stepped in front of him, brandishing the angel blade like a broad sword. Sam was sure it was supposed to be menacing but the small snarl he emitted, green eyes sparking, lip curled only succeeded in making Sam laugh. 

Until Dean lunged, slicing at Sam's kneecaps, so he had to dance back and away. Castiel reached for Dean's small shoulder, his hand closing over it, and Dean lowered his weapon, looking back up at him in question.

"That's your brother."

Dean made a face and turned towards Sam again. Sam nodded at him, and Dean looked back at Castiel, who also gave him a solemn nod. Dean took a few steps forward, blade still clutched in both hands, and Sam cautiously lowered himself, squatting to be at eye level with the child. Dean took one hand off the blade, the tip waving dangerously before he tensed his arm, using all his strength to hold it steady. He reached out, and for a second, Sam thought he was going to touch his face. 

Instead, Dean socked him hard in the eye and pounced on him when he toppled backward, making shreds of his shirt as he fumbled to get it open. Cool steel kissed Sam's belly, and in a panic, he shoved hard, vaulting the child off of him and into a cabinet where Dean hit and sagged down, dazed.

"Shit!" Sam exclaimed, trying to scramble back onto his feet, but Dean was already on his, swaying ominously, both hands holding the blade again. "Dean. It's me. It's Sammy." Sam pressed his hands to his chest. "Please, let me help you." A trickle of blood dribbled from Dean's hairline, and guilt lacerated Sam. 

Dean tipped the blade forward, and Sam tensed, ready to defend himself again, but Dean was staring resolutely at his torso. He jabbed the blade at him insistently. Sam looked down at himself, finding his shirt ripped nearly in half, revealing his chest in a deep vee. Dean lifted his chin as if trying to see inside it.

"You're looking for this?" Sam said, finally catching on. He tugged the shirt over, showing the indent of a scar next to his navel. "From the GI tube when I was born."

Dean's eyes met his, and he finally lowered the blade, turning back towards Castiel and swaying as he made his way over to the angel. He carefully turned the blade, offering the hilt up to Castiel, who took it with a solemn nod, slipping it back up his sleeve. Then Dean collapsed.

#

The witch was dead, but her coven was still at large. So they fled, scooping up Dean and his now too-large clothes to haul ass through the woods back to the Impala. Sam marveled at the tiny body in his arms, vulnerable in a way that deeply unsettled him. 

Dean came to about a quarter-mile out. Sam could tell from the quick tense of his muscles, a tiny jerk of his head before he went immediately still again. Sam's jaw clenched, hearing John Winchester's voice clear as a bell in his head. _You wake up somewhere with someone you don't know, you keep your eyes closed, and you pretend you're still asleep or knocked out, you hear me? You play possum, and you listen, and you find a way to escape._

"Dean," Sam tried to make his voice as gentle as possible. "Dean, it's Sam. Sammy. You can open your eyes. I'm not going to hurt you." Sam watched his cheek twitch before his eyes slowly creaked open, distrustful, and narrowed. "Something happened to you. Do you remember being a grown-up?"

Dean blinked at him, the line between his brows drawing deeper as he gave a quick shake of his head. Sam sighed. "I know this is scary, but you're safe."

Dean looked away then, head rolling on Sam's forearm, and he struggled to sit up when he caught sight of Castiel's trench coat a yard or so ahead. He tried to twist in Sam's arms, reaching forward, mouth opening, but no sound came out. Sam struggled to keep his hold.

"Cas?" Sam choked as Dean walloped him in the throat but managed not to drop him. 

Castiel was right there in an instant, pulling Dean away before he could land another punch. He was unprepared for the child to turn in his arms and practically climb him like a tree, wrapping his arms tightly around the angel's neck, ankles locking around his ribs. Castiel took a deep breath, and it was enough to break Dean's leg lock, his feet scrambling at his sides, trying to grab hold again. Castiel could hear the boy panting against his ear, his little heartbeat thrumming quick against his own chest. Castiel finally relented and hooked an arm awkwardly under Dean's rear, hand closing on his thigh to support his weight. Dean sagged against him, the heat of his forehead pressed against Castiel's neck.

"Why does he remember you and not me?" Sam asked, his voice hoarse as he rubbed his throat. 

Castiel tried to look down at Dean but only succeeded in getting a mouth full of hair. He spit, trying to turn his head away. "I don't know." Castiel tilted his head, trying to see the boy's face. "Dean. Do you know who I am?"

Dean nodded but kept his face buried in Castiel's neck. Castiel's eyes cut to Sam.

"Do you know who that is?" Castiel nodded towards Sam, who was still on the ground. 

Dean peeked over his own shoulder for the barest of moments, then hid his face again. Castiel waited for some indication that Dean did or did not know his brother, but none came. Only the scratchy steady breath hot down the collar of Castiel's shirt, and he found himself lifting his other hand to rest against the middle of Dean's back. The boy burrowed in closer.

They stopped at a Wal-Mart for a couple of Garanimals sets, a pack of Hanes, and a tiny pair of boots before hitting an all-night diner. Dean had yet to speak a single word, mostly communicating in gestures or facial expressions, which sent his message loud and clear. 

Castiel was safe. Sam should keep his distance. 

Sam still couldn't get over it, watching Dean smashed against Castiel's side, head angled to look over his menu. The crayons and kids menu the waitress had sat next to him lay ignored at the edge of the table, much like Sam across from him. Castiel, with his unshakable calm, slid his menu over, and Dean shifted onto his knees, resting his elbows on the table to pour over his options. The waitress returned with a glass of milk for Dean and the coffee pot for Sam and Castiel. 

"Y'all ready to order?" Her eyes fell on Dean, who looked up at her with wide green eyes, and it was easy to see how Dean grew to be a shameless charmer. It'd come to him naturally. "Well, don't you just have the sweetest face?"

Dean gave a patient smile and pointed to the picture of pancakes on Castiel's menu. The waitress nodded. "Pancakes." She wrote it down, then her eyes cut to Castiel. "He'll want the kids' portion?"

Dean's head whipped to frown at Castiel. Sam piped up. "No, he wants the regular one." Dean's head turned, and gave Sam an appraising look.

The waitress settled her hands on her hips. "That's an awful big stack short stuff."

Dean ignored her, slipping his feet out from under him to settle back on his rear, his mouth moving over what Sam was sure would have been some choice grumbles from his older self.

"He's a big guy," Sam replied, grabbing up the menu and handing it to the waitress. "I'll have the egg white omelet with fruit instead of toast. The upcharge is fine."

The waitress nodded, cutting her eyes to Castiel even as she continued to write. "And for you, angel?"

Castiel looked up at her bewildered, and Sam turned his snort into a cough. Dean was peering up at the waitress with narrowed eyes. Castiel slid the menu from under Dean's hands and held it out. "Just the coffee. Thank you."

The waitress nodded and began to walk away, Dean leaning over to peer around the side of the booth to watch her go. He turned back around and gave Sam a look before turning to Castiel and nudging his arm.

"What is it, Dean?"

Castiel watched as Dean curled his arms against his chest, pointed towards the booth back before pointing at his eyes, and making a guff noise in his throat. Castiel's head tipped to the side, watching as the boy repeated the gestures.

"Why can't he talk?" Sam asked, and Dean's eyes cut to him before returning to Castiel this time, patting his small hands over Castiel's chest and shaking his head. He then placed his hands over his own chest and shook his head.

Castiel watched all of this with great concentration. "He was mute for a year after the fire."

Sam's mouth popped open, and his eyes immediately latched on his brother, who was still trying to tell Castiel something. "Wh-what? He never- How do you know that?"

Castiel's attention was still focused on Dean. "I know everything he experienced before Hell."

Sam continued to gape. "You never told- Does _he_ know that?" Sam gestured to Dean, who shot him a look and then did a double-take. He heaved a weary sigh and began gesturing at Sam.

Castiel continued to observe him. "I believe so. Though we do not talk about it. He gets very uncomfortable over certain topics, so I generally pretend I don't know something until he broaches the subject."

Sam huffed an astonished sigh, watching as Dean's little hands flailed. His brow furrowed. "You think she's a demon?"

Dean's hands flopped onto the table, head hanging back, and he looked to Castiel, gesturing at Sam in a perfect rendition of his older self. Sam let out a chuckle but Dean's palm banging on the table a few times sobered him. _Focus_ , his brother, was imploring. 

"I don't sense that she's a demon, Dean." Castiel lifted his coffee to his lips, and Dean huffed, shoving the kids' menu forward. Sam thought he caught a twitch of Castiel's smile. "Trying to give you the child's portion doesn't make her inherently evil."

Dean slouched, crossing his arms over his chest, lips moving as if he were grumbling in disagreement.

#

"So, what do we do?"

Sam took his eyes off the road to glance down at the small body on the bench seat between him and Castiel. They'd been driving for a few hours, now in the deepest part of the night, still hours away from the bunker. Dean had succumbed to sleep less than five minutes in, tugging the lapel of Castiel's trench aside and tucking himself in against the angel's side before wrapping it back around them. Castiel had curled an arm around Dean awkwardly but had relaxed into the hold over time. 

"I hate to suggest this but-"

"Rowena?"

Cas gave a disgruntled hum.

Dean snuffled inside Castiel's coat, small fingers wrapping in his tie before settling again. They drove on. 

#

"Well, isn't he just the sweetest little thing you've ever seen!"

Four-year-old Dean was just as unimpressed by Rowena as his older self. She dropped her bag on one of the library tables as she swept in, and Dean tensed into a fighting stance, fingers grappling at his belt for the small paring knife Sam had relented in giving him. It was better than denying him and Dean finding his own weapon. Sam had the laceration on his thigh to prove it. 

Rowena stopped about five feet from the boy and fisted her hands on her hips, bangles jangling. "Now, is that any way to greet your Auntie Rowena?"

Dean's eyes went uncertain, skittering to Castiel, who sat at one of the tables, face pinched. Dean adjusted his grip on the knife and let out a growl. Rowena clapped, delighted. Dean dropped his arms to his sides, turning to Sam and glaring as if to say _would you do something about her, please?_

Sam fought a chuckle and cleared his throat. "Rowena, please treat Dean like an adult."

Her eyebrows rose. "Oh, is he all there?" She bent to look into his face, and he shuffled backward, drifting closer to Castiel. Rowena pressed her lips together. "No, he's not, I see."

"He's mature for his age." Sam crossed his arms over his chest. 

Rowena straightened. "I imagine he would be yes. Not many four-year-olds watch their mother's die on a cei-AAAAAAAHHHHHH" 

Rowena stumbled backward as Dean charged her, slashing and swinging, mouth open in a silent scream of rage. Sam was able to catch him around the middle while Castiel stood to help him, parrying to and fro until he could capture Dean's wrist and pull the weapon from his grasp. Dean continued to swing and fight, his breath coming short and fast, and that was when Sam realized he was sobbing. 

"Dean. Dea-" Sam huffed, trying to wrestle his brother into a bear hug to no avail. "Dean! Come on now!"

_"Dean!"_ Castiel's voice seemed to echo in the small space, the lights flickering, and Dean's mouth opened in a silent cry, hands going to cover his ears. He looked up at Castiel, betrayed, big fat tears rolling from his iridescent green eyes. "I'm sorry, but you weren't listening."

Dean's lip trembled, and he turned into Sam, his tiny arms going around Sam's neck, and Sam's jaw dropped, scrambling to bundle Dean close to his chest. "Hey, buddy. It's okay, I got you."

Sam splayed a large hand across Dean's shoulder blades, feeling the kick drum of his heart banging against his ribs. Dean gave a great sniff, moving his head against Sam's shoulder and the older man was pretty sure Dean had just wiped his nose on his shirt. 

"When was the last time the wee lad had a nap?" Rowena asked, her voice strained as she attempted to regain her composure.

Castiel looked from her to Sam. "She's right, Sam. Children often require a rest period in the middle of the day to avoid becoming irritable."

"Or homicidal."

Castiel glared over his shoulder at Rowena, who began pawing through her bag, drawing things out. Castiel looked back at Dean, who was peeking at him from where his face was all but hidden in Sam's neck. He quickly hid himself again. Castiel rolled his eyes. "Are you tired, Dean?"

Dean gave an adamant shake of his head. Sam chuckled. "How about we get some cocoa and see about some pajamas?"

Dean began to shake his head but then stopped, lifting to look Sam in the face. Sam raised his eyebrows in question, and Dean huffed, mouthing _marshmallows?_

Sam grinned. "Yeah, man. We don't do cocoa here without marshmallows." He looked up. "You want Cas to help you with your pajamas?"

Dean nodded, twisting to reach for Castiel, who blinked at the small human for a moment before he stepped forward stiffly and accepted Dean into his arms. Castiel stood stock still, staring at Sam as Dean shifted in his arms, twisting his hand around Castiel's tie and looking into the angel's face. Sam couldn't fight the smile that stretched across his lips as they fell into one of their signature staring contests.

"Just take him to his room. I'll be there in a minute."

"What about Rowena?" Castiel threw a furtive glance over his shoulder at the witch, who was doing an excellent job pretending not to listen. Dean craned his neck around Castiel to glare at her.

"Rowena, don't touch anything, or I'll kill you." 

Dean's head whipped to look at his brother, green eyes wide, lips parted in shock before he gave Sam an approving smile, small though it was. Sam returned it and squeezed Dean's shoulder gently before turning to go to the kitchen. 

Ten minutes later, he was padding carefully down the hallway, two mugs of Dean Winchester's famous Hot Chocolate, sans the whiskey, filled to the brim with a large marshmallow floating at the top. He could hear the low rumble of Castiel's voice as he approached and realized Castiel was telling a story.

"As you can imagine, the Asshurites were not particularly thrilled with that arrangement. So the head tribesman challenged the other to a duel." Castiel was trying to help Dean wrestle a shirt over his head, the boy's head thrashing in an attempt to get out of the fabric. "And they ended up decapitating each other." Dean's head finally popped out of the neck, his green eyes wide, staring open-mouthed at Castiel. "I know. The odds of that are extremely improbable, but they managed it." Castiel held up the sleeve as Dean tried to jam his arm through it. "And then the tribes just fell into complete disarray, with the heads of households taking virgin bride after virgin bride and-"

"Heeeey there," Sam said, finally stepping in, and both looked over at him. "Cool shirt."

Dean looked down at the t-rex on his sleep shirt and patted his chest before looking back up with a neutral expression. Sam tried not to frown. Big Dean usually smiled at compliments. Sam stepped forward, holding out the mug for Dean, who reached for it with both hands. 

"It might be hot." 

Dean didn't flinch, small hands sealing around the mug and brought it slowly to his lips. A loud slurping sound echoed in the room, Dean's head rising with the marshmallow suctioned to his lips. Castiel placed a hand underneath the mug, holding it so Dean could reach up and take a large bite of the marshmallow. Dean looked up at the angel, chewing slowly for a moment before holding the marshmallow up to him.

"No, thank you." 

Dean's eyes grew large, looking down at the half-eaten marshmallow before looking back up at Castiel again. He lifted his hand once more, tentative this time, and Sam cleared his throat before Castiel could decline once more.

"Just take a bite, Cas."

Castiel looked at him, his head tipping to the side. "But it's wasted on me. Everything just tastes like molecules, and he's very fond of marshmallows." Castiel looked down at Dean, who had turned shy, but his hand lifted higher.

"It's a human thing," Sam said with a sad smile. "Just take a small bit off the end. You'll make him happy."

Castiel gave Sam a skeptical look before bending at the waist, snagging a corner, and for the first time, a real smile played across Dean's lips right up until he shoved the rest of the marshmallow in. He chewed laboriously, eyes focused on Castiel, who was running his tongue along the inside of his mouth frowning. Dean retook his mug, shifting on the edge of the bed and taking another slurping sip. 

"I'll go check on Rowena." Castiel placed a hand on Dean's head as he passed, Dean's eyes following him with apprehension as he went to exit the room. 

An awkward silence was left in his wake. Sam rested an elbow on the dresser, bringing his mug to his lips and sipping. Dean sat perfectly still, flexing his tiny toes but otherwise did not fidget. Sam had encountered enough four-year-olds in his attempts to live the apple pie life to know they were never still. Or quiet. 

"Dean?" Sam's voice was rough, and he cleared it. 

The child looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and in that instant, Sam missed his big brother so fiercely it stole his breath. Missed his dumb jokes and terrible music, missed how he'd flirt endlessly with anyone just for the fun of it and the surety of feeling Dean behind him whether in battle or anywhere really, his constant protector. Looking at the small, fragile body in t-rex pajamas, Sam felt the weight of that responsibility settle on his shoulders. He was the one doing the protecting now.

"Hey, you uh…" Sam turned, eyes lighting on the stack of photos spread haphazardly across the top of the dresser. Sam set his mug down and gathered them up. "You remember any of these?"

Sam held up the photos, and Dean's eyes widened a bit, but he remained still as Sam shifted closer, telegraphing his movements clearly as he moved to sit next to Dean on the side of the bed. He plucked the mug from Dean's hands, hissing as the ceramic burned his fingers, and he immediately turned, grabbing at Dean's hands and holding them palm up. They were angry red, and when Sam ran a thumb over the soft, uncalloused flesh, Dean tried to hide a wince.

"Why didn't you say it was hurting you?" 

Dean was looking at the photos Sam had dropped on the comforter, avoiding Sam's gaze as he gave a quick jerk of one shoulder. Sam pressed his lips together and shifted his weight, jostling Dean as Sam picked up the photos again. Dean twisted to tuck one leg under him to face Sam, the other still dangling off the side. 

The first was of Dean and Mary, the child in front of him an exact copy of the face in the photo. Dean's mouth opened in a silent cry, clumsy fingers grappling for it. He held it reverently in his small hands, mouth moving over the word _Mom_ before his eyes filled with tears. Sam didn't think his heart could break like that anymore. He'd been through so much, literally to Hell and back, but the soul-deep ache he felt as Dean's tearstained face lifted threatened to suffocate him. Dean's bottom lip trembled while he hiccuped once, twice before sucking in a great breath and fisting at his eyes in an attempt to pull it together.

Sam reached for him, arms going around him, and Dean tensed for a moment before relenting, collapsing against Sam's chest and letting out great, shuddering sobs. Sam felt his own eyes well, tears dripping down his nose and onto the back of Dean's shirt. The little boy sat back finally, sniffling and fisting at one eye as he looked up. His little brow furrowed, scrambling up onto his knees, and Sam flinched back, the bruise under his eye from the last time Dean punched him twinging as he screwed them up tight. 

But Dean's hands were gentle as they cupped his face, clumsily patting at his damp cheeks. His lips formed the word _Sammy_ , silent but precise and Sam gave a watery laugh, reaching up to wipe his nose on his sleeve. 

"Yeah. Yeah, man, it's me."

Dean frowned, raising his hand high, leveling it at Sam's forehead, and Sam laughed.

"Yeah, I'm pretty tall. You will be too." Sam sat the photo of Dean and Mary aside. "Look."

This one was a candid, both he and Dean laughing, unaware they were being photographed. Sam was probably 23, Dean 27, and Sam's eyes focused on the little Dean in front of him. His brow was furrowed as he reached out, urging Sam to shuffle to another. This one was taken several years later, Dean and Sam flanking Bobby as they all leaned against the Impala, too serious to smile. After that was another candid of Dean and Sam, recent maybe only months ago at a table in the bunker, beers on the table and grinning.

Dean looked up at Sam and touched his own smiling face in the photo, a quizzical expression painting his features, and Sam pressed his lips together.

"Don't be scared, k?" Sam murmured, and Dean squared his shoulders, giving a solemn nod. "That's you. When you're older."

Dean blinked at him for a moment then looked down, taking the photo in his own hand, reaching for Sam to unearth the others again, and he looked from one to the next, studying the face of his future self. He'd glance up at Sam every now and again, and Sam would try to give him an encouraging look, but he wasn't sure if it was coming through. Finally, Dean took all three and laid them aside on the bed, ignoring them completely as he turned to Sam expectantly, wanting to see the rest of the photos in his hands.

There were a few more of their parents, the group shot they'd taken before their attempt to kill the devil. Only three of the six still alive now. Dean's finger traced a halo around Castiel's head, petting at the front of his coat. Lastly, a photo of John, Mary, Dean, and baby Sam, which, as far as Sam knew, was the only surviving family photo of all four of them. Dean stared at it for a long time, finger tracing over John's face and then Mary's, laying a finger on baby Sam and looking up at grown Sam skeptically.

"Here." Sam gathered up the photos and set them on the bedside table next to the hot chocolate mug and toed off his boots. "You wanna lay down for a bit? Come on, dude. I know you're tired."

Dean shook his head adamantly though his eyelids drooped. 

"Well… I'm pretty tired and…" Sam looked at the pillows, biting his lip. "Sometimes I have nightmares…" 

Dean's face set in determination, clamoring up onto his knees, hands reaching for Sam. Sam intercepted them, holding them in his own and examined his tiny nails. His fingers were all perfectly straight, the skin of his knuckles free of any scars. When Dean curled them in, it was almost comical, those tiny fists cradled in his own giant paws. 

"Do you think you could lay with me for a bit?" Sam let his eyebrows lift hopefully. "Just until I fall asleep. Then you can go." Sam looked down, and his hair fell into his face.

Dean's hands came up to hold his face again, pushing at his hair impatiently, and the disgruntled look on his face was so classically _Dean_ whenever he threatened to get the clippers. Sam couldn't help but smile. Dean was nodding before he began scrambling up the bed, trying to pull back the blankets while he stood on them. 

Sam tried to help him a bit before realizing that Dean was attempting to tuck _him_ in. Dean tugged the covers up to his chin, planting a knee on Sam's chest that nearly drove the air out of him as he reached to click off the bedside light. Dean fumbled backward, barely visible in the light thrown from the cracked door as he tromped around, tucking the blanket around Sam's body as if trying to swaddle him. Dean finally laid down on top of the covers, close enough to feel the weight of him denting the mattress but not close enough to touch. Sam rolled onto his side to face him, reminded of when they used to share a bed as kids, John snoring in the opposite one. 

Sam's eyes held Dean's, watching them blink slow until they didn't reopen, his perfect cherub face relaxing finally. Dean's hand reached out in sleep, fingers grappling in the dark, and as Sam had done since he was old enough to remember, he grasped it, holding it in his as he drifted off to sleep.

#

The nap was too short for Sam but long enough to give Dean the energy to rocket through the bunker, leaping and cartwheeling through the halls, up and over furniture only to skid in a slide under a table. Then repeat the entire loop over again. Castiel and Sam watched him with stoic interest until Rowena reappeared from the depths of the stacks.

"Well, I believe that I've exhausted all resources and am ready to diagnose the patient." 

She somehow managed to latch on to Dean as he zoomed past, catching him under the arms. He was so surprised he didn't struggle before Rowena plunked down on the edge of one of the library tables.

"Alright, laddie," she said pompously. "Lift your arms up." Rowena held her arms over her head for example. 

Dean, still panting and a little sweaty, looked to Sam and Castiel. Both gave a deep nod. Dean looked back to Rowena, lips pursed but lifted his arms.

"Excellent." She gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head in one smooth motion, receiving silent litany from Dean as his eyes shot daggers at her. "No need to be modest, dear. It's nothing I haven't seen before. Arms up, now!" 

She poked at Dean's armpit, examining it and giving a soft hum before she pressed a fingernail to the middle of his chest. He made to slap at her hand, but she caught it, twisting his wrist, and Dean looked surprised to be overpowered by her, wincing when she turned his elbow too far.

"That's enough, Rowena."

"He has no marks on him in the typical places." Rowena dropped his wrist and grabbed his ankle, nearly tipping him backward. Dean's elbows hit the wood of the table with a thump as she examined the bottom of his left foot. "Nope, no marks of a de-aging spell. One last thing, love." Rowena bent at the waist, so she was face to face with Dean, who was scowling at her. "Open your mouth and say 'ah'" Rowena led by example, opening her jaw wide and sticking out her tongue, making a soft 'ah' sound.

Dean looked to Castiel and Sam again, who looked at each other before nodding at him. Dean crossed his arms over his naked chest, shoulders curling in a bit as he opened his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out, but no sound came.

"Why is his tongue purple?" Castiel was up and out of his seat as soon as he saw it, Sam trailing after him. 

"You said it was a cloud of purple smoke?" Rowena asked, taking Dean's jaw gently in her hands and tipping his head back so she could see down his throat. "Sweet-smelling?"

"Yeah, and gritty. Like sand but… but…"

"Sugar," Rowena nodded, and Dean's eyes rolled from one adult to the next, questioning as he obediently kept his mouth open. "It's harmless. Should wear off within thirty-six hours."

Sam sputtered, watching as Rowena let go of Dean's face and sashayed back over to her bag. Dean closed his mouth, smacking his lips and working his jaw back and forth as he followed her with his eyes, calculating and suspicious. 

"What… what do you mean, _harmless_? He's a defenseless kid?!" Sam gestured at Dean, the anger in his voice causing the boy to frown up at him and reach for his wrist. Dean slotted his hand in Sam's.

Rowena heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. "I mean there will be no lasting damage, Samuel." She sighed again, repacking her bag. "You killed the witch, yes?"

"Yes, but her coven remains at large." Castiel's voice was a low rumble behind him, and Sam felt Dean's hand twitch in his.

"Doesn't matter. It was a defense mechanism deployed at the witch's death. Stupid, really." 

"What kind of defense mechanism?" Sam narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'm sure she thought that anyone who would try to kill her would try and do it alone." Rowena gave a shrug. "So de-aging whoever did it would likely kill them as well. Stuck in her den without the cognitive ability to get out, no food or water, no mum and da to save them." Rowena shook her head. "Needlessly cruel. Why not just make yourself immortal and get revenge for your attempted murder yourself?" Rowena flicked a hand. "Anyway, he'll be back to his beer-swigging, murderous self within the next," Rowena checked her watch, "24 hours or so? You'd know better than I. Welp, I'm off. Nice to see you lads again." Rowena shouldered her bag and leaned over, edging into Dean's space. Her nose rubbed against his. "Especially you, little Dean." 

Dean scowled, reaching up and wiping at his nose as the three of them watched Rowena leave, her sequined evening gown glittering behind her as she made her way up the stairs.

Castiel and Sam looked at Dean. Dean looked up at them, slouched on the edge of the table, his scrawny shoulders and chest pale with none of the freckles he'd acquired from day labor jobs throughout his life. The boy blinked, looking around as his feet began to kick back and forth. When his gaze landed on Sam and Castiel once more, he stopped immediately, sitting straighter and perfectly still.

Sam pressed his lips together. "Who wants to go to the park?"

Dean's face lit up for a split second before he schooled it into a more neutral expression and gave a demure nod. Sam snorted, but he felt as if something large were stuck in his throat.

They arrived at the local greenway just as school was letting out, mothers and older siblings lining the benches while kids of all ages swarmed the playground equipment like a plague of locust. Dean had drifted closer to Castiel though he kept ahold of Sam's hand as he eyed the mass of metal and plastic settled firmly in a bed of wood chips. He dug his heels in when Sam tried to guide them closer, shaking his head adamantly before sucking in a deep breath and marching off on his own, shoulders squared like a soldier going into battle.

Sam chuffed, shaking his head. "What was that about?"

"Dean didn't get along well with other children. They ridiculed him for being mute, and older children often saw him as weak because of it, so he was a target for physical violence as well."

Sam's eyes widened, his head turning slowly to gape at Castiel. The angel stood unruffled as ever, hands tucked in the pockets of his trench coat. Sam looked back to where Dean was climbing up the jungle gym, nudging past other children, some of whom gave him big smiles that he avoided with nervous eyes. 

"Cas…" Sam trailed off, not sure what he'd intended to ask but knowing he had so many questions. "Can… can you tell me some things?" Castiel turned to look at him, head tilted in query. "A-about him. As a kid."

Castiel hesitated. "I don't know if I should…"

"Nothing… nothing traumatic or… well… just…" Sam huffed, rubbing at his eyes. "I dunno. Happy memories." Castiel looked back to where Dean had disappeared into the fortress leading to the slide. "Does… does he have any?"

Castiel looked to Sam then, and a small smile graced his lips. "Yes, Sam. Dean has many happy memories from his childhood. Most of them revolve around you." Castiel's eyebrows lifted. "Your first steps. Your first word - 'Dean,'" Sam chuckled, reaching up to rub at his nose with his sleeve. "He liked riding in the back seat of the Impala with you when you were still in your car seat. He'd keep you occupied while your father drove. Soothe you when you cried. He enjoys being a caregiver. He feels it gives him value."

Sam's smile faded, finding Dean among the other children, standing patiently in line for another turn at the slide. "He has value aside from that."

"He knows that." Castiel gave a shrug. "He doubts it every second of every day, but he knows it."

Sam pressed his lips together, brow furrowing as the truth of it jabbed at his heart. Dean was near the front of the line now, a smaller boy in front of him, when a big kid, seven maybe eight years old, ran over and tried to shove his way in front. Dean reached forward, grabbing a handful of the kid's shirt right between his shoulder blades, and snatched him back, using his full body weight to spin the kid so that he landed unsteadily behind Dean in the line. Dean faced forward again, but the older boy gave him a hard shove, knocking Dean into the kid in front of him, and the smaller boy pitched forward, face colliding with the ladder leading up the slide.

Sam was making quick strides forward, Castiel at his heels as Dean crouched next to the wailing child, blood pouring from his busted lip. Dean shrugged out of his small plaid button-down revealing his white tee underneath and balled it in his hands, pressing it hard against the smaller boy's face. 

Parents of those involved were making their way over as well, a mother skidding to a halt next to them, pulling the shirt back to get a look at her son's face. She looked at Dean with astonished but grateful eyes, and Dean gently guided the shirt back to the child's face. He covered the mother's hand with his small one, applying pressure and holding her gaze, his expression communicating _Like this_. 

Sam saw Dean look over his shoulder, mouth set in a grim line, and Sam broke into a run, shouted Dean's name, but it was too late. Dean had already launched himself at the big kid, fists flying with no skill but landing hard. A man shouted, darting forward and grabbing the bigger kid by the back of the shirt. Sam was relieved for half a second before his vision turned red as who he assumed to be the big kid's father planted a hand on Dean's chest and shoved hard. 

Dean pinwheeled backward, falling hard on his butt, face open in shock before it shut down into fury, and the little boy was scrambling to his feet again. Sam lunged between them as Castiel fell behind Dean, placing a calming hand on his small shoulder as Sam pulled himself to his full height, towering over the other man who was red-faced and fuming. 

"You put your hands on my brother again, I'll kill you." Sam's voice was an ominous growl, ripping a gasp from the other parents around them who drew their children back, suddenly deciding that they were a little too close to the action.

The father rubbed at his mouth, nudging his son behind him, who was sniffling and holding the side of his face, growing blacker by the minute. "Your brother'd do well to keep his own hands to himself." The father leaned around Sam to glare down at Dean. "Learn to respect people bigger than 'im if he knows what's good for 'im."

"Your son disrespected the social contract of the queue," Castiel said matter of factly, and all eyes turned to him. Dean was gazing up at him, Castiel's palm resting against the crown of the child's head. "Dean was merely righting the situation. Your child resorted to violence, harming the other child in the process."

The mother struggled to her feet, pulling her son up with her. "You're lucky it didn't knock his teeth out." She bundled her boy to her side and glared. "We all saw your son shove that boy."

"He don't talk!" The big kid shouted suddenly, wrathful behind his tears. The father snorted, "He some kinda _freak_?"

Sam's muscles tensed, and if it hadn't been for Castiel's timely hand on his shoulder, ripping him backward, he would have beaten the man into a bloodstain on the asphalt. As it was, Castiel was now glaring up into the father's face, and Sam marveled at how he could forget that his friend had laid siege to Hell, burned demons from their vessels, and flattened entire cities with a single strike of his fist.

"Your child is unruly. You should take him home."

Castiel's voice broached no argument, the air around them turning to static, and Sam wondered if the man believed in God. If he and his son sat in church pews on Sunday mornings and listened to a preacher rail on about God's vengeance. Sam wondered if the man sensed how close to meeting his maker he actually was.

Dean slipped around Sam, moving to stand next to Castiel, and clasped his hand tightly, glaring at the big kid who was still tucked behind his father's knee. The father scoffed, though Sam saw real fear in his eyes as he took a step back and then another, bumping his son back several steps as he retreated. Castiel didn't move, didn't turn down the intensity of his gaze even as father and son turned to walk away, making a hasty retreat to the parking lot.

"Your name is Dean?" The mother's voice was soft, and Dean craned his neck to look over his shoulder, hand still clasped in Castiel's. He nodded before turning back to watch with Castiel as the large F150 pulled out of it's spot and trundled, quicker than was safe, out of the parking lot.

"Thank you, Dean." 

Dean turned then, switching hands to keep hold of Castiel's and gave her a small smile. Sam placed a large hand on his head. Dean looked up at him, wide green eyes baleful, and it wasn't lost on Sam that a simple trip to the park had ended as so many of their adventures did, violently with innocent bystanders in the crossfire.

Sam insisted on stopping for burgers on the way back to the bunker, ignoring Castiel's quizzical look, knowing for a fact that Sam hated that restaurant. For once, Sam got the burger and fries just like Dean, watching as his brother enthusiastically inhaled his as well as the large strawberry milkshake. Castiel was still irritated; they could feel it in the crackling air around them, but it seemed to simmer down when Dean slipped his hand back into the angel's as his other hesitantly crept towards the crayon pack the waitress had left them. Sam ordered a milkshake for himself just to buy Dean more time to solve the maze on the back of his placemat.

The sun was setting as they arrived back at the bunker, Dean's head nodding forward before snapping back up again until finally Castiel shook his hand from Dean's and opened his coat as he wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulders. Without hesitation, Dean snuggled in closer, wrapping a hand in Cas' tie and pressing his cheek to the angel's ribs.

Sam let Castiel carry Dean inside, gesturing for him to take him directly to his bedroom. It was only seven, but Sam felt bone-tired himself as he scrubbed his face hard and glanced at the clocks on the wall. It'd been only 18 hours since Dean had been cursed. They still had 18 to go.

#

Sam was woken from a dead sleep by the low murmuring of Castiel's voice and the mattress' shift next to him. He squinted in the near dark, the light from the hall falling across his face, and he shifted, scrunching up his nose to pat at the wetness at his hip. Sam forced his eyes open, finding Castiel standing next to the bed, Dean standing at the edge, a damp spot darkening the front of his pajama pants and down his legs. He was clearly fighting tears, lip trembling, his fearful eyes meeting Sam's before dropping to his toes.

"Oh, hey buddy, it's okay." Sam made to reach for him and rolled right into the damp spot. He made a face. "Ugh. I mean…" Sam amended as Dean turned to press his face into Castiel's chest. The angel sighed and rested his hand at Dean's crown.

"He was dreaming." Castiel's tone was damning, and Sam lifted an eyebrow. "About Hell."

Sam's eyebrows shot to his hairline, and watched Dean's shoulders curl in, pressing his face harder to Castiel's shirt as he began to shake. "His memories are-"

"In there somewhere," Castiel replied with a weary sigh. "I didn't realize it soon enough. I'm sorry, Sam."

"Hey, it wasn't _anybody's_ fault." Sam's voice was firm, and Dean twisted to peek over his shoulder at Sam, rubbing at his eye. Sam leveled his gaze on him. "Sadly, this is not the first time you've peed on me, Dean."

A gurgle, almost musical, made its way out of Dean's throat, and he slapped his hand over his mouth, immediately hiding his face. Castiel looked down at him, perplexed. Sam blinked. 

"Did he just laugh?"

"He did." Castiel's tone was contemplative, hand stuttering before letting his elegant fingers card through Dean's hair. Dean turned his face up to gaze back.

Sam shook his head. "Can you get the laundry started while I clean us up?" 

Castiel nodded but didn't look up, holding Dean's stare, and Sam shook his head, rolling out of bed.

Sam helped Dean undress, stripping himself down to his boxers, leaving the pile for Castiel, before he guided Dean to the showers. Dean's fingers held fast to his, watching his toes curl against the cold tile floor as Sam shuffled them over to a spigot, cranking the ancient handles until water spit from the ceiling. Dean squinted, holding his hands up to block the spray, and Sam remembered being this age, Dean refusing to let his butt touch the grimy tub bottom of whatever motel they were in that week. He'd scrub Sam down and then himself, perfunctory and efficient. Sam was well into elementary school before he realized that most brothers didn't bathe together after toddlerhood. There was a strange innocence to that time in their lives, when they slept curled around each other, shared clothes down to the underwear, and passed suckers back and forth across the Impala's vinyl seats.

Sam scrubbed Dean down, wrapping him in a big fluffy towel and setting him aside before quickly washing himself. He tucked a towel around his waist before they returned to Dean's room. 

Dean was gazing at him speculatively as they entered, finding the bed stripped. Sam grabbed a fresh set of pajamas and let Dean follow him to his own room, leaving the door open as he lifted Dean to sit on the end of the bed. 

"Stay put a sec." 

Sam grabbed a pair of boxers and pulled them hastily up his legs before he turned and found Dean wiggling into his own underwear, legs kicking as he wrestled them up over his hips before moving to stand on the end of the bed. He gazed at Sam, and Sam gazed back, watching his brother study his torso and shoulders with interest. 

Dean lifted an arm and curled it, making his bicep bulge, and Sam chuckled, mimicking the motion. Dean poked at his own tensed bicep then looked at Sam, who shuffled closer, bending a little to allow Dean to poke at the muscle. Dean pursed his lips as if impressed, and Sam laughed, a joyful sound that surprised him and was rewarded with the biggest grin he'd seen from Dean yet. 

Sam flinched when one bony finger jabbed at his pectoral before tracing over the dark ink of his tattoo. Sam looked down at it and followed the journey of Dean's finger to his bicep, where the mottled bullet wound from a con-woman, long dead now, still marred his skin. There were multiple scars on the inside of his forearm, all crowded together from proving over and over again throughout the years that he was indeed human. Tiny fingers traversed across the remnants of claw marks, knife wounds, and bites from a myriad of creatures. Dean's own skin was milk-white porcelain, smooth and untouched, and Sam felt sad remembering all the marks that mottled his brother's adult form.

"Come on, under the covers." Sam waved his hands at Dean, and the boy grimaced, looking over at the pillows with apprehension. Sam swallowed, and the lie felt bitter on his tongue. "It was just a dream, Dean. I'm here-"

"Real." 

Sam's jaw dropped, the rasp of an underused voice doing nothing to hide the sweetness of the tone. Dean wasn't looking at him. Sam very carefully laid a hand on his shoulder, letting the heat of his palm sink into Dean's skin and hoping it gave him comfort. Dean pulled in a heavy sigh.

"Why do you think that?" Sam's tone was a mere murmur.

Dean jerked a shoulder and shifted from foot to foot. "Hurts."

Sam snatched Dean into his arms without thinking, the child's gasp loud between them, but he didn't struggle, just froze and stayed stiff in the embrace. Sam cleared his throat and set Dean back down gently. The boy was looking at him with wary eyes. 

"Sorry. I just…" Sam didn't know how to finish that sentence. 

Castiel stepped into the doorway. "I have started the laundry." 

"Thanks, Cas." 

Castiel nodded, shuffling into the room and taking a seat at Sam's desk, pulling the book out from under his arm. "Sleep. I'll watch over you."

Sam looked at Dean, who regarded the angel with a puzzled expression as if he were trying to place the phrase, or he felt like he should maybe protest but wasn't wholly committed to it. Sam moved to pull the covers back.

"You heard him. You got an angel watching your back." Dean didn't budge, looking at the bed's inviting space before shooting Castiel a skeptical look. "Cas, maybe you could tell him a story. About how you rescued The Righteous Man from Hell."

Dean's eyes widened, looking at Castiel, impressed and Cas gave Sam a searching look before placing his book on the table. He turned in his chair, the ancient screws groaning under his weight, and rested his elbows on his knees, pressing his palms together. Castiel looked up then, at Sam first and then directly into Dean's eyes before giving a short nod of his head. 

Dean fell asleep tucked against his brother's chest, listening to an angel of the Lord tell a harrowing tale of bravery, rescue, and redemption.

#

Sam awoke the next morning alone in his bed and panicked, launching himself to his feet and careening down the hall. He skidded to a halt just before the entryway to the kitchen as a peel of giggles reached his ears accompanied by the low hum of Castiel's voice.

"I'm glad you find my struggle amusing, Dean, but at this rate, you'll never get breakfast."

Sam entered expecting to find a disaster zone but was surprised to see Castiel standing at the stove, Dean perched on his shoulders, hands hooked under Castiel's chin to hang on as the angel poured batter onto a griddle. Sam cleared his throat, and Castiel turned to face him. Dean gave his brother a small smile and a wave. Sam chuckled as he waved back.

"What's going on in here?"

"Dean has requested pancakes in the shape of a male lion, and my attempts have been lackluster at best." Dean punctuated Castiel's statement by blowing a raspberry and giving an emphatic thumbs down. Castiel glared up at him, and Dean giggled, holding onto Cas' chin so he could lean over his head to see his face better.

"Why are you up there?"

"He's too short to see on top of the stove." Castiel turned back around and began to attend to the pancakes. 

"More." Dean's voice was quiet, but he gestured big with his hands before placing them on top of Castiel's head and peering down at the pan as Castiel worked with the spatula. Dean shook his head and sighed. "Nope."

Castiel squinted up at him. " I'm not finished yet." Dean hummed and waited patiently as Castiel lifted the pan and gave it a shake, tilting his head as he eyed the shape. "You're right." Castiel sighed and shook the pancake into the trash, reaching for the bowl of batter again.

Sam rushed forward, taking it from him. "Why don't you let me take a stab at it?"

Dean looked down as Castiel looked up, a silent conversation passing between them. They looked back at Sam and gave identical shrugs before wandering over to the table. After Sam found a squeeze bottle, the process became infinitely more manageable, Dean clapping as Sam placed the plate in front of him. Castiel eyed the plate critically before giving a perfunctory nod and reaching for another newspaper. 

After breakfast, Sam got a call from Jodi about something hinky happening across the state line in Nebraska. She had her hands full with a Wendigo situation on the Standing Rock reservation and didn't know when she'd be able to get down there. Sam looked down at Dean sitting next to Castiel, one of Castiel's discarded pages in front of him, little finger moving slowly along each line as he mouthed the words. Sam checked his watch. Only 12 hours left on the spell if Rowena's estimation was accurate. 

"Yeah, we can take it. Just… just need to finish a few things up here first. We'll do a little digging and then head that way tomorrow afternoon." Sam's eyes met Castiel's as Jodi gave her thanks and bid him goodbye. "Uh-huh, bye, Jodi." Sam looked down at the phone in his hand.

"A case?"

Sam looked up and opened his mouth to answer but lost his voice at the barely controlled look on Dean's face, his green eyes going glassy as he clenched his jaw to keep his lip from trembling. His little fists had balled on top of the newspaper, and he seemed to steel himself, sucking in a deep breath before he stood and left the kitchen. 

Sam and Castiel shared a look before they both began to trail after him. They caught sight of the back of his shirt as he rounded a corner but caught up quick enough to get a glimpse of him disappearing into Sam's room. They flanked the doorway, leaning in and watching as Dean pulled Sam's go-bag from the bottom of his closet, nearly toppling over backward with the weight. Dean waddled over to the bed, hoisting the bag onto it with a great huff before moving to unzip it.

The first item he pulled out was Sam's back-up piece, a loaded Beretta, but as Sam launched himself forward to grab it, Dean's tiny fingers released the clip and shucked the round out of the chamber before holding it against his body to get the barrel off. Dean looked up at Sam with a quizzical expression on his face.

"Help." Dean gave a short nod, and Sam dropped his head, heart galloping in his chest as he felt tears sting at his eyes. He cleared his throat, rallying his voice as he looked at Dean, who was still blinking at him, the pieces of the gun in his tiny hands.

Sam took them gently and set them down, Dean watching him, eyes still questioning. Dean looked to Castiel, who still stood in the doorway, watching with the same stoic expression he always wore. Sam glanced back at the angel and heaved a sigh.

"Thank you," Sam paused to clear his throat again and forced a smile. "Dean, um, thank you. But… we… we can do this tomorrow. Today, um… why don't we just-" Sam cut himself off, about to say they should go to the park, but given the events of the previous day, he thought better of it. "Why don't we go for a drive?"

Dean's face lit up as if Sam had just asked him if he'd like to have pie for breakfast, lunch, and dinner the rest of his life before the boy quickly wiped it from his face and looked away, giving a solemn little nod. 

They made their way out to the garage, Dean trying very hard not to fidget excitedly as Sam opened the passenger side of the Impala.

"Cas." Castiel turned, and the keys that Sam tossed at him hit him in the chest before falling to the concrete. Castiel looked down at them and then back up at Sam, his head canting to the side. Dean shuffled over and picked them up, and Sam reached up to smother his laugh. "Uh, sorry. Can you drive? I wanted to do some research." Sam wiggled his phone.

Castiel's eyebrows raised before he looked down at Dean, who was holding the keys up to him. He looked back at Sam, apprehension in his wide blue eyes. Sam grinned.

"Dean's handing you the keys himself." Sam shrugged, and Dean gave Castiel a shy smile holding the keys higher.

Castiel took them with a sigh, trudging around to the driver's side as Sam stepped back to allow Dean to clamor into the front seat and settle at the center. Sam folded himself inside behind him. Castiel was behind the wheel, peering around it at the gauges and dials as if acclimating himself to the space. Dean wiggled impatiently and then forced himself to stop. 

With a deep breath, Castiel cranked the engine, and Sam watched as Dean's eyes closed, and he seemed to melt back into the seat. Sam grinned, parting his legs to reach down under him, fishing for the box of cassettes as Castiel began to pull out, the lights of the entry tunnel striating across their faces. Sam gave the box a little shake, rattling the cassettes together to get Dean's attention and the small boy took the box, setting it on his lap as he dug through.

"I didn't know he could read this early." Sam murmured as Castiel pulled out onto the dirt road that took them away from the bunker.

"Dean was quite advanced for his age." _Before the fire_ went unsaid.

Sam looked down and watched as his brother picked a cassette - Deans Badass Tunez - and leaned forward to shove it in the deck. The striking riff of "Whole Lotta Love" filled the car, and as Castiel turned onto the main road, he pressed his foot down, Baby giving a throaty roar as she shot forward into the gray Kansas morning.

They ended up in Cawker City, where Castiel allowed Dean to once again climb onto his shoulders in an attempt to reach the top of the World's Largest Ball of Twine. Sam stood back to snap a photo, and a young tourist offered to take the shot for them. Sam fell in next to Castiel, all three of them looking at the camera with solemn expressions, and the girl gave them a skeptical look over the top of Sam's phone. Sam looked up at his brother, his hands once again wrapped under Castiel's chin to hold on and Sam nudged at his knee with his elbow. Dean looked down as Sam shot a sly look up at him. 

"Betcha can't reach higher than me." Sam threw his arms over his head and let out a delighted laugh as Dean straightened his back, his own arms raising over his head, stretching as tall as he could. 

"Smile!" The tourist prompted with her own grin, and Dean's delighted giggle only made Sam grin harder.

They had lunch at Hindquarter's Bar and Grill before meandering over to Waconda Lake. They parked on the bank and sat side by side on the trunk, their beat-up green cooler at their feet, Sam and Cas drinking beers while Dean sipped at a Yahoo. The clouds began to thicken, a low rumble in the distance announcing the incoming storm. They packed up and began their journey back, getting caught in the downpour.

Castiel had slowed to a near crawl as they turned on to the dirt road that led to the bunker, Dean still fixed in his lap where they'd allowed him to believe he was driving, small hands at 10 and 2 while Castiel's kept a firm hold at 6. It was little more than a mudslide at that point, and Sam's gentle instructions to Dean on how to navigate the precarious path to not get stuck was the only thing that kept Castiel from panicking.

Still, he didn't take a breath until they were safely parked back in the garage. Sam made to climb out, and Castiel sat for a second, letting the air run in and out of his vessel while Dean continued to tug at the wheel, wiggling around as if he were careening around a race track. Castiel's hands closed over Dean's small biceps, and the boy stilled immediately, craning his neck to look up apologetically at Castiel.

"You did very well, Dean. Thank you for your help."

Dean beamed at him, whipping back to face forward again and continuing his imaginary race. Sam leaned over, peeking his head back into the car. "You guys coming in or what?"

Dean nodded, reaching for his imaginary gearshift and putting her into park as Castiel threw open the door. A loud crack of thunder reverberated through the walls, dulled by being underground, but Dean still cringed where he stood. Castiel's hand on his shoulder relaxed him, and they all shuffled back down further into the bunker.

Sam's foot had barely hit the bottom step when another muffled rumble reached them, and the lights snuffed out. The darkness in the bunker was absolute, not a pinprick of light anywhere, and the silence was interrupted only by the sound of running water and Dean's heavy breath near his hip. 

Sam heard the ruffle of fabric, what turned out to be the trench coat, as he felt Castiel shift past him. A small whimper sounded, and Sam reached tentatively towards it, knuckles brushing the shell of Dean's ear. Little hands clamped around his wrist in a vice, cutting off the circulation to his hand, and he heard the soft click of Castiel's loafers as he moved away. 

"Cas?" Sam questioned, hearing the click of switches, but nothing changed. 

"The grid is out from the storm." 

"Why isn't the generator kicking in?"

More shuffling of feet. "A tree fell. Severed the line."

Sam wondered how Castiel knew but didn't doubt him. "Can you-"

Sam's voice died as white light flared in front of him, throwing a hand up to shield his eyes. He blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to find Castiel holding out a glowing palm, his eyes illuminated blue in the shadow of his brows. Dean released Sam's wrist, shuffling forward, and the angelic light threw his shadow on the ground, nearly as tall as his adult self. Dean reached up, fingers stretching, and Castiel crouched down to become eye level with him. 

Sam could only watch in awe as his brother touched the angel's face, gentle palms against stubbled cheeks, and Castiel's eyes flared for a moment accompanied by the soft flutter of wings. Sam had seen Castiel posture before, usually in a show of dominance, the shadow of his great wings stretching across the walls in a shadow behind him as the lights flickered, and every electronic device in the vicinity went nuts.

With the power out, there was no distraction of popping bulbs or sparks, just the gentle rise of the ulna over Castiel's head, creating a shadow over both Dean and Cas, keeping his primary feathers mostly tucked. Cas wasn't looking to intimidate but to reassure, and Sam choked on his breath as Dean dropped his hands from Castiel's face to reach out towards the shadowy feathers.

"Dean…" Sam's voice wavered despite himself, watching as Castiel slowly extended his left wing to its full span.

"It's okay, Sam." Castiel's voice was a gentle rumble, at odds with the show of strength as Dean dug his fingers into the secondaries and walked the length of the wing, a dozen steps to reach the tip of the primaries still in his reach.

Castiel's wing twitched, shifting forward and ushering Dean back to stand at the crook of the elbow. It was strange to see the small child shadowed in the embrace of half-corporeal feathers. Even stranger to see the tender smile that had settled on Castiel's face as he and Dean held each other's gaze.

"This was how we met," Castiel murmured, eyes not leaving Dean, the boy's fingers still coming through the secondary converts methodically, making Castiel's other wing twitch and flutter a bit. "That tickles." Dean grinned and exaggerated the motion before the wing curled all the way around him, bumping him to hold him flush against the side of Castiel's leg.

"He tickled you when you met?" Sam asked with a soft laugh, and Castiel looked up startled before looking back down at Dean's head, the young boy's arms wrapping around his thigh as his cheek pressed to Castiel's hip.

"No, he examined my wings and allowed himself to be shrouded away from the demons around us before…' Castiel's voice trailed as he let his palm rest against Dean's bicep. 

Dean's mouth opened wide in a yawn that shook his entire body. Sam smiled. "What do you say we get some shut-eye. Wait out the storm before grabbing some burgers."

Dean's eyes drifted closed, nodding against Castiel's hip. Castiel led the way to Dean's room, politely moving his hand around like a flashlight so Sam could change Dean into softer clothes. Sam pulled the blankets back, but Dean lingered near Castiel, shuffling behind him, pushing at the wings folded at the angel's back so that he was hidden under them. 

"Come on, Dean." Sam cocked his head, and Dean slipped a hand into Castiel's, tugging him with him as he shuffled over to the bed.

Dean clamored up, spinning around before sprawling out in the middle. He looked at Castiel and patted the bed next to him. Castiel looked over at Sam, who gave a careless shrug, hands tucked in his pockets, still a little in awe of the shadowy wings at Castiel's back. Cas sat on the edge of the bed before turning gingerly to sit propped against the headboard, one shadowy wing lifting and stretching across the bed to rest along the pillows. Dean looked at Sam and patted his other side. 

"Uh…"

Dean's face shifted to annoyance, and Sam had to turn his laugh into a cough at how completely _Dean_ the expression was. Sam hesitated to eye the shadowy feathers that rested at the top of the pillow before he toed off his boots and sat on the edge of the bed. Shaking his hair back, he twisted to roll onto his side and found Dean tucked against Castiel's side, his fingers swirling through the light emanating from the angel's palm. Dean shifted, mashing a few feathers, and Sam felt the twitch of the enormous muscle above him, feathers rustling against his head. 

"Careful," he said, his voice soft as his fingers brushed against Dean's leg, and the boy turned over, shimmying so his butt was pressed against Castiel's hip and his hand reached across the bed as the light began to dim.

Sam caught it in the dark, holding it in his as they'd done when they were children, though it was strange to feel a smaller hand in his instead of the other way around. The only sound was the rustle of bedsheets as Dean kicked his way under the covers, still holding Sam's hand tight as he settled. The small sigh Dean emitted gusted lightly against Sam's face, stirring a feather near his hairline. 

Sam didn't remember falling asleep, but some time later, he awoke to the bright light of Dean's overhead light shining into his eyes. Cas was sitting stock still and staring ahead, eyes unseeing, and Sam's shifting seemed to reanimate him. He blinked and looked down at the younger Winchester, who still had one hand wrapped around Dean's. Cas' wings were gone.

"Hello, Sam."

"Hey, Cas." Sam stifled a yawn and blinked, looking around. "Power came back on."

"Yes, not long ago."

Sam rubbed at his face, trying to wake himself up. "I'm gonna go check the breakers. Make sure everything's good." Castiel gave a nod and turned his head to resume his thousand-yard stare while Sam carefully extracted his hand from Dean's, the little boy snuffling in sleep.

After a pit stop at the bathroom, Sam determined that there appeared to be no damage from the storm, aside from the connection to the backup generator. He shuffled back down the hall to Dean's room, peeking in and finding that in his absence, Dean moved to curl himself against Castiel's side, his head resting against the angel's ribs, an arm flung across his stomach. Castiel observed him with interest, the hand of the arm around Dean's shoulder resting limp against the pillow behind the boy's back. Sam saw it lift tentatively and hover as if unsure what to do or even what he wanted to do. Eventually, he allowed his long fingers to card slowly through Dean's hair, the boy burying his face further into Castiel's side and heaving a content sigh.

Sam shook his head, turning to go down the hall to his own room when his ears popped, one first then the other as if the air pressure in the bunker had suddenly skyrocketed and the sound of fabric ripping sounded loud behind him.

_"_ Wha-wha- C-C-Cas? Wha- wha- what happened to my clothes? _Why are you in my bed?_ " 

Sam stumbled over his own feet, nearly giving himself a crick in his neck as he turned to run back, skidding to a halt outside Dean's open door. 

Castiel remained perched on the edge of the bed as he'd been before, but the little boy was gone, replaced by a fully grown man who was nearly falling off the other side of the bed, blankets pulled up to his shoulders like a shield. Castiel sighed, eyes meeting Sam's.

"He's back."

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews/Kudos are <3
> 
> [Visit me on Tumblr](https://desti-feeels.tumblr.com)  
> 


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